Perspectives
by Ajorkable
Summary: One event, two perspectives. Davy and Peter share a moment at the Pad... significant and sweet, yet subtle.


Peter was at the piano, playing a tune that David found unfamiliar. It was a gorgeous, wistful thing that tickled the corners of David's brain, compelling him to close his book and wander over to the piano. He sat down on the piano bench with Peter, realizing that although they shared a room, he didn't know much about his obviously gifted roommate- he knew less about him, it seemed, than he did the other two. He figured that it was because Mike was very much in charge, and Micky was so blindingly straightforward and out there, that it was somewhat easy to overlook the comparatively quiet young man from Conneticut. This, David felt, was shameful, and he resolved to rectify the matter immediately.

He continued to watch Peter play, waiting for a pause in the action to say anything. An opening finally came, and David took action.

"That's nice," he said, looking at the sheet music to gain some clue as to what they were talking about. "Did you write that?"

Peter acknowledged that he had. Overcome with admiration (tinged with envy) for Peter's ability to create a piece of music like that, David smiled and said, "It's really good. What do you call it?"

Peter shrugged. "Don't know yet."

"Well, what's it about?" Peter mulled David's question over for a moment, then began playing again.

"What do you think it's about?" David raised an eyebrow at his friend. "What does it make you think of?"

It was David's turn to think as Peter played on. He let himself get lost in the music as he tried to answer Peter's question. The song had a simple, spare feel to it- it sounded like a hybrid between classical and jazz, but very clean, almost stark. It took David back a few years, to a time before he'd met his bandmates, before he wanted to be in a rock band.

"Winter," he finally responded. "About midday in January. It's cold outside, but not bitterly so; the sun is out, and everything looks a bit hazy. You're alone in Central Park, watching the people around you walking their dogs or playing with their kids or whatever. It's peaceful, though, for all the cold and loneliness; the leafless trees against the crisp blueness of the sky are, in their own way, quite beautiful."

Peter stopped playing and looked at David for a moment. "Wow," he finally replied, "that's incredibly descriptive. I mean, that's not what I had in mind when I wrote the song, but-"

"Oh?" David was slightly crestfallen.

"I mean, I was thinking about unrequited love when I wrote it. But I like your description so much better."

David turned around on the piano bench, leaned back against the keys, and took a really good look at his friend. He could easily describe him as blond, with longish hair, but now he wanted to know exactly what Peter looked like- he wanted to commit it to memory. He took in the classically handsome features, the pale skin that would likely sunburn very easily, the long, graceful hands that toyed with a pencil in a deliciously maddening way. That was the moment that David's world started to turn on its head, for a part of him knew that despite his usual affectational preferences, he was quite in danger of falling in love with Peter.

Peter sat at the piano, tinkering around with an old song he had written long ago, before he'd met his bandmates. In the corner of his vision, he could see David sitting in a chair with his nose in a book. He mused over this, wondering what kind of reading would interest the diminutive Englishman with whom he shared a bedroom (and, at this point, precious little else). He realized that he knew almost nothing about the newest member of the band, other than the fact that he sometimes mumbled in his sleep, and was extremely tidy. He felt bad about that, and decided that he should take some time to actually get to know David. If only he knew where to begin. He saw David heading over toward the piano, and scooted down on the bench to make room for him. He was happily surprised at this turn of events. He thought over the group dynamic as he played, and also pondered how he related to each of them individually.

He respected Mike, and not just because he had taken charge. Mike was just as interested in music as he was, although they differed on a lot of specifics in that regard. Micky, on the other hand, was a lot of fun, and Peter genuinely enjoyed hanging out with him. He admired Micky's ability to think outside the box, and although he lacked a lot of Mike and Peter's technical knowledge, he had an interesting sense of presentation (not to mention a tremendously good voice). As for David, well, it was readily apparent that he was charismatic from the moment they met. Peter liked his drive and his professionalism; he was also intrigued by his almost androgynous good looks- heavens, David was prettier than some girls of Peter's acquaintance.

It seemed like David actually had something to say, so Peter stopped playing long enough to let him speak. "That's nice," he said, seemingly with some hesitation as he glanced at Peter's handwritten sheet music. "Did you write that?"

"Yes, I did; about two years ago." Peter self-consciously fiddled with the pencil that sat on top of the piano.

"It's really good. What do you call it?" In two years' time, Peter had never managed to name this, his favorite piece. "Don't know yet. "Well, what's it about?" David asked.

Peter thought about telling David the story of the girl in New York who he had loved, although she was engaged to someone else. It had been hard to let her go, for they were friends as well, and finally he just had to avoid her altogether after she was married. He wasn't ready to open himself up that far, however, and instead decided to turn the question around and maybe get a fresh perspective.

"What do you think it's about?" Peter asked, genuinely curious as to what kind of answer he'd get. "What does it make you think of?" He began playing it again, and watched as David actually listened to the song. After a few minutes, David spoke again.

"Winter," he said. "About midday in January. It's cold outside, but not bitterly so; the sun is out, and everything looks a bit hazy. You're alone in Central Park, watching the people around you walking their dogs or playing with their kids or whatever. It's peaceful, though, for all the cold and loneliness; the leafless trees against the crisp blueness of the sky are, in their own way, quite beautiful."

Peter stopped playing and looked at David, blown away by the evocative and surprisingly accurate description. It was like he had seen into his soul just for a second, but it was enough. It was obvious that for all his brashness, David was a sensitive and perceptive creature. Intrigue turned to outright admiration; in that moment, David had unwittingly stolen the first tiny piece of Peter's heart.

"Wow," he said to his companion, "that's incredibly descriptive. I mean, that's not what I had in mind when I wrote the song, but-"

"Oh?"

"I mean, I was thinking about unrequited love when I wrote it. But I like your description so much better." David rewarded him with a genuine smile, and he felt his world start to turn upside down.


End file.
